


always, angel.

by cyarlka



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Human, Blood and Injury, Forbidden Love, Gun Violence, I love them so much, Invasion of Normandy, M/M, Minor Violence, One-Shot, World War II, but i wanna write more (:, crowley is a tad dramatic but im also just emotional abt this, nazi son of a bitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:14:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21586702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyarlka/pseuds/cyarlka
Summary: General Anthony J. Crowley takes a night walk, a small patrol after the Battle of Normandy. Second Lieutenant Nurse Ezra A. Fell finds him crying and bleeding in the medical tent. They both long for each other.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 71





	always, angel.

**Author's Note:**

> hello!!!! i wrote this as a quickwrite in my english class last night and kinda got carried away. i'm a wwii nerd.....chile anyways. this is my first fic thing and during my college's winter break i may write more 🥺 thank u to twitter for encouraging me to post this and to beth n amy for reading and being super sweet!! luv my gfs. MY GERMAN IS VERY RUSTY IM SORRY TO GERMAN SPEAKERS I TRIED MY BEST

General Anthony J. Crowley had taken on the nightly patrol to give his men a break. D-Day had been dreadful and they had lost good soldiers. Though they prevailed, morale was low. They would be sailing to Scotland come tomorrow morning, Winston Churchill had just made port on the Queen Mary.

He trekked along the shoreline, eyeing the empty vessels and bodies littering the water. Clutching the strap of his rifle he relaxed slightly seeing the dim lights emitting from the shoddy camp set up. He saw little movement from scattered men getting ready for bed and sitting by fires. A few of the younger men were throwing up seashells and trying to shoot them and had the older soldiers yelling at them for wasting ammo.

Boots sinking in the sand, Anthony stood, for just a second, to smell the salty air and faint campfire. Gunpowder and gasoline wafted from the abandoned vehicles around the beach.

His head snapped around at the sound of rustling. He slowly walked towards a small grouping of palm trees. “Hello?” No response. The person in question sounded like they were backing away. “This is General Anthony Crowley of Southwark’s Queen Royal Regiment.”

No response, he heard the sand crunching beneath their boots. Crowley smirked. “State your name while you are out there lurking in the dark, soldier.”

He saw a white man dressed in gray peek out from the brush. By the dim light coming from the camp Crowley saw the pin of an eagle on his lapel, and a red armband around his arm. The swastika made his stomach churn as he swung his firearm from his backside.

The nazi soldier already had a pistol out, pointing it shakingly at Crowley. “ _B-bitte sehr_.” **(t-there you are)**

Crowley pointed his gun towards him “I do not speak enough German to understand, you nazi son of a bitch. Are you daft as a brush?” Crowley side-eyed the camp, teenaged soldiers still shooting at sea life.

“ _Meine Brüder…..haben mich verlassen, du hast sie getötet! T-tee trinken Abschaum_.” **(my brothers…...left me, you killed them. T-tea drinking scum.)** The German’s hands stopped shaking and he aimed more steadily at the General.

Crowley’s limbs seemed frozen. “Listen bastard, _zurücktreten._ **(withdraw)** Okay? _Können Sie Englisch?_ **(can you speak English?)** If you do not cooperate in the name of the Queen I'll-"

The man laughed.

Two gunshots rang out into the night, one fired from an enemy pistol and the other aimed at a crab minding its own business. As far as anyone else knew, the boys had just found another unsuspecting creature.

The German soldier took off running into the darkness, leaving a bleeding British man in his place.

“Fuck. _Fuck._ ” Crowley screamed, dropping his rifle and turned towards the camp. Stumbling over his own feet and all the sand. His shoulder screamed in pain. He beelined for the large canvas tent at the front of the camp. His ears rang. His vision was spotty and his breathing was becoming weaker.

_Angel._

A large red cross adorned the flaps and the Union Jack was hanging over the top of it.

He crashed into the nurse’s tent a bloody, long-limbed mess. Collapsing on the nearest cot, hellfire surged through his veins. His shoulder ablaze, blood gushing, Crowley felt like dying. His breathing was ragged and he was suddenly aware of the ringing in his ears.

He tried to take off his belt and coat, grunting through the pain in his body. Using his last remaining bit of strength he flung them off (hearing several crashes of his clothing hitting objects they were not meant to hit) and ripping at the buttons of his shirt.

The pain was unbearable. Getting his shirt open enough to touch the back of his shoulder.

No exit wound.

The bullet was still in there.

Tears escaped Crowley’s eyes as he sobbed in pain, the tears wracking his aching body.

The tent was so dark and lonely.

He heard sand crunching from somewhere around him. Someone humming [_“You’d Be So Nice To Come Home To.” By Dinah Shore._](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2w5KNm1LQ78)

Anthony knew every Dinah Shore song. He knew the angel that loved Dinah Shore.

He knew that soft humming. He’d heard it coming from the very tent he was in, he’d heard it from the ship’s library, he’d heard it from the man who stroked his hair as he fell into a war dream riddled sleep.

_Ezra A. Fell_

The walking seemed to stop at the nurse’s tent. Crowley’s crying did not cease, his body felt hot and clammy at the same time. His eyes were closed and he was alone.

The door was pushed open and a soft gasp emitted from it. He felt someone run into the tent, and the lamp above him flicked on. Anthony hissed, even through his eyelids it hurt. He slowly opened his amber eyes.

He breathed a sigh of relief.

Against the bright warm light of the nurse’s lamp, ethereal blonde curls were highlighted. A worry-creased forehead and teary blue eyes slowly came into view. The man before him had a soft, cherubic like face Anthony could study for hours. His soft lips seemed to move fervently, and the ringing in the ginger man’s ears slowly started to fade.

“General? Oh dear God. Anthony please can you hear me? My dear, my Crowley. Sweetheart? For the love of all that is holy please Anthony. Answer me.”

_Anthony J. Crowley, you idiot. I cannot lose you. I love you. The war isn't over._

“Hello, angel.” He sobbed.

“ _Anthony_ , oh my Lord.” Ezra cupped his face, wiping away the fountain of tears. “What happened my dear? Who did this to you?” He examined the man’s shoulder.

“Nazi. On the edge of camp. Hiding in a bit of trees. Luger in hand.” He sucked in a breath as the blonde laid a manicured hand on his bare chest, applying pressure to his shoulder with his other. “Saw the arm band too late, ngk, was speakin’ his language but couldn’t understand a thing.”

Ezra frowned. “Haven’t you been learning it? German?”

Anthony scoffed. “I’ve tried angel, my head is so filled with battle plans n’ movements I can’t retain the lot of it.” He looked into his big blue eyes. “Not as smart as you.” He mumbled.

The angel sighed. “Oh _Crowley_. You are extremely smart darling. You are by far the most tactical and resolute General I’ve worked under. The _nicest_ as well.” He sucked in a breath as he watched Ezra reach for a steel tool, tears still leaking out of his eyes. “M’not nice.”

Ezra’s hummed noncommittally, smiling to himself. His face quickly became downtrodden. “How long have you been here? I now feel terribly for leaving my station. You could have bled out Crowley! I was giving those boys pestering God’s creatures a firm talking to.”

Anthony snorted. “Of course you were. I’m not sure. M’head is fuzzy. Jus’ knew I needed you.”

Ezra’s eyes filled with tears again.

_I needed you_

“I’m so sorry my dear. I feel absolutely dreadful.” He looked to the wounded man. “This is going to hurt. I’m afraid we are out of any sort of numbing agent for you Crowley. The battle wore out our supplies, but after this, I’ll be sure to get you a brimming glass of scotch. Alright, sweetheart?”

Anthony tried to ignore the way his heart hammered, blaming it on the literal wound in his body. Not the beautiful man in front of him. “Bullets’ still in there.” He grunted. 

Ezra smiled sadly. “I know dear. Do trust me won’t you?”

Crowley smiled softly and reached towards his face, not realizing it was covered in his own blood. He went to put his hand back down beside him, but Ezra grabbed it. Holding it tightly, he brushed his lips gingerly across his dried, bloody knuckles. Anthony was frozen from pain and his heart pounding a hole in his chest. He felt as though he was going to faint.

“Always, angel.”

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what y'all think! my twitter is @lochyangel 🥺 ily all


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